Wednesday, November 01, 2006
New Beginning 153
It’s amazing how you take oxygen for granted until you don’t have any.
I’m Teresa Jones, a stupid sixteen-year-old who choked to death on a freaking barbequed pork sandwich and am now a ghost. Pretty pathetic, huh?
Okay, let me back up. About an hour ago, I went out with my best friend, Jamie, to eat dinner after seeing a movie, which sucked big time--but that’s beside the point. Anyway, I was pigging out on my pulled pork sandwich. For some reason, I’ve been blessed with high metabolism.
Don’t throw a rock at me--I did just say I’m dead, so rapid digestion isn’t doing me any good right now.
Anyway, so we were talking, and suddenly, a lump of pork got stuck in my throat. I couldn’t breathe and struggled to fight off the dizziness. That stupid chunk wouldn’t slide down my throat, and I couldn’t cough it out. As soon as Jamie realized what was happening she lowered her voice to a malevolent grumble. "It's amazing how you take oxygen for granted until you don't have any, isn't it?" she said. "Kind of like . . . your friends."
I knew where this was going. She was still mad about the time she caught me and her ex-boyfriend together in the Jacuzzi at Mrs. Robertson's house.
I tried to suggest the Heimlich maneuver, but all that came out was hacchhhkkk. To which Jamie replied, "Heineken? You want a Heineken?"
Anyway, I'm not through with Jamie. I’ll teach her to take my nail polish out of my bag while the medic’s doing CPR. What? Oh yeah, sorry, enough about me. It’s awesome here. I can talk to anyone. Your grandmother? Sure. Jean, right? Joan, Josephine . . . Patricia! That’s right! Sure, she’s here. Okay, but before I can ask her, you need to give me a credit card number or . . . Hello? Jeez, whatever. Loser.
Wayne! Bring me another beer, wouldya? And keep that freaking kid quiet, I’m working here.
Opening: Rhonda Stapleton.....Continuation: j h woodyatt, ril, McKoala, kis